Ida
We’ve all sold ourselves at one time or another for a glass of wine, a crystal mirror, a twenty left on the hall table. Sold ourselves to keep going, a kind of cannibalism, until our bodies showed the bite of every tooth, our flesh gave up, sunk in lumps at the ankles, those joints of least resistance, swollen over the tops of our shoes. We’ve been undone, like the cane unwoven from the wicker, patches frayed at the hems. Still, looking into the mirrors of our own eyes, we see the girls we were, elegant girls whose cut glass vases remain unchipped, whose lace doilies cover our sins and scars. Elaine Mintzer Elaine Mintzer has been published in a number of journals and anthologies including Cultural Weekly, Rattle, Silver Birch Press, Lindenwood Review, Cyclamens and Swords, and Voices Israel. Her work was featured in 13 Los Angeles Poets. Elaine’s first collection, Natural Selections, was published by Bombshelter Press. She writes and teaches writing in Los Angeles.
2 Comments
Mary McCarthy
3/28/2016 08:51:20 am
"until our bodies showed the bite of every tooth"--How wonderfully said! You have taken this feeling every woman knows (inside I'm still nineteen" as my 83 year old mother said) and made us see it new!
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4/20/2016 01:29:46 pm
Thanks, Mary. We are so critical about ourselves. Elaine
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